I hadn't seen real daylight in two days. Emily and I moved from motel to motel like ghosts, the journal and the SIM card hidden in a battered backpack that never left my side. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sophia's face at the vault door — the tears, the apology, the betrayal.
I still didn't know which one was real.
Emily tossed a cheap burner phone onto the motel bed. "Keep it on silent. If they track you through that, we're dead."
I thumbed through my mother's journal for the hundredth time. Page after page of neat, frantic scribbles: coded account numbers, secret meetings, bribes funneled through fake charities and shell companies with names like Sunrise Foundation and White Orchid Trust. Every dirty secret my father and Mirabel buried with her.
I ran my fingers over her handwriting like it was a lifeline.
"You okay?" Emily asked. She was perched by the window, peeking through the stained curtains. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair pinned back messily. I'd trusted her this far, but even now I wondered: who was she really working for?
"No," I whispered. "But I will be."
The burner phone buzzed just after midnight. I flinched so hard I nearly dropped it.
A message from an unknown number: "Nina, please. Meet me. You don't understand."
Sophia.
Emily leaned over my shoulder, frowning. "She's playing you. Forget it."
But I couldn't. I'd spent half my life telling that girl every secret I had. If there was even a chance she was still fighting for me — or for my mother — I had to hear her out.
Another message came through: "I can tell you who they're working for. Who paid Mirabel."
Emily's voice dropped to a hiss. "She's baiting you."
I stood, tucking the phone into my pocket. "I'm going. Alone."
Emily grabbed my arm. "Like hell you are."
"I trusted you. Trust me now."
She stared at me, her jaw tight. Then she dropped her hand. "You have ten minutes. If you're not back, I'm dragging you out by your hair."
I met Sophia in the parking lot of an abandoned diner on the city outskirts. The neon sign flickered overhead, buzzing like an angry hornet.
She stood by an old payphone, her hair pulled back, hood up. She looked thinner, broken somehow. I hated her for it — for making me care.
"You lied to me," I said, my voice shaking. "You locked me in that vault."
She flinched. "I didn't want to. They had my brother, Nina. Mirabel said she'd kill him if I didn't cooperate."
I stared at her, searching for the lie. "And now?"
Sophia reached into her coat pocket. "I found something. Names. Offshore accounts. Whoever's backing Mirabel isn't just my father — it's bigger. There's someone else—"
A noise cut her off. Tires screeching. Headlights flaring across the cracked asphalt.
A black car swung into the lot, doors flying open. Men in dark jackets swarmed out like shadows.
"Sophia, run!" I screamed.
But it was too late. One of them grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back toward the car. She fought, clawing at his sleeve, but another man slammed a fist into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping.
I turned to run — but someone lunged at me, fingers catching my jacket. I swung my elbow back, felt bone crunch, then bolted into the trees behind the diner. Branches whipped my face raw as I stumbled down the embankment. Behind me, I heard Sophia's muffled scream.
Then — silence.
I didn't stop running until my lungs burned and my legs gave out. I collapsed behind an old bus stop at the edge of town, my backpack digging into my spine.
I opened it. The journal was still there. The SIM card. Everything my mother risked her life to gather. And Sophia's last words — "It's bigger. There's someone else."
I pulled out the burner phone. My fingers hovered over it. Emily was right — they'd never stop hunting me. The only way to win was to drag their secrets into the light.
Hands shaking, I hit RECORD.
"My name is Nina Orakwue. If you're seeing this, I'm probably dead."
I swallowed, my throat raw. "My mother, Josephine Orakwue, didn't die a natural death. She was poisoned by my father and Mirabel — and they're being protected by people with more money and power than you could imagine."
I held up the journal, flipping through the pages. "This is everything. Offshore accounts, shell companies, bribes. And this—" I lifted the tiny SIM card, pressing it to my lips. "—this has my mother's voice. The last proof they couldn't bury."
My voice broke. "If they find me, they'll kill me. So I'm giving it to you. Whoever you are — take it, publish it, show the world who they really are."
I hit SEND. To every journalist, every whistleblower site, every lawyer's inbox I could find.
The phone died in my hand, battery flickering to black.
Emily found me slumped behind the bus shelter, her breath fogging in the cold night. "What did you do?"
"I did what she wanted," I rasped. "I gave them everything."
Emily helped me to my feet. Sirens wailed in the distance, but my pulse felt oddly calm.
But then my new phone buzzed — one last message.
"Not enough. If you want to finish this, come home."
It was my father's number. But the message was signed: Mirabel.
I looked at Emily. "It's a trap."
She nodded. "Probably."
I shoved the journal back into my bag. "Good. Let's end it anyway."